Magister Potter
by MisterTabi
Summary: As Dumbledore sifts through the Potter Will, he finds that the Potters had a backup plan: one that did not include him. Harry grows up in a welsh magic academy, and soon, the Wizarding World finds out there is more than their kind of magic! Being revised.
1. Unexpected Wills and Expected Hurrahs

Magister Potter

Disclaimer: /I do not own Harry Potter (and in turn own JK Rowling), nor do I own Negima (and in turn Ken Akamatsu)./

- - - - -

"Have another round boys', on the house!" Shouted a very joyful Madam Rosmerta; much to the delight of the many wizards and witches within her pub. This event was not unusual in the slightest. It was after all a celebration. Celebrations of such kind were occurring all over the Wizarding world, mainly in Europe and some parts in Asia and the Americas. Every witch, wizard, and magical creature toasted a single person, a person who had no clue what his heritage was, who had no idea what was happening in a world he had unknowingly left. Those toasts went unanswered, not that the toasters were expecting it anyway. However, what they didn't know was whatever happened to the Boy-Who-Lived. The baby that had ended a reign of terror they had been living for nearly eleven years.

Or rather, specifically: Harry Potter.

No one had the full story, but knew only that he had managed to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort, fear of him became such that no one dared speak his title. Speculation included that the Potter boy might be the next dark lord, or the next Merlin. A healthy many could not believe a baby to do what so many older, wiser, and more powerful could not.

But they could not deny what had happened. The Dark Lord was gone!

At this very moment, Harry Potter was sleeping peacefully, in a bundle of blankets; or at least as peacefully as a babe can get after his parent were killed. The poor child's mind may have been too young to comprehend all that had occurred just a few short, or rather long, hours ago. He stirred, crying out slightly, for the mother who would now never hold him, for the father who would now never make funny noises at him while looking like a fool. A ticklish beard brushed against him, giving the baby something to distract himself with.

Harry Potter yawned and closed his eyes again, snuggling deeper into slumber and the inside of the giant's moleskin overcoat.

Rubeus Hagrid, half giant, Gameskeeper and the Keeper of the Keys of Hogwarts, glanced worriedly down at the poor child's face as he rode Sirius's motorcycle easily through the clouds. He felt Harry snuggle closer to him before sleeping again, much to relief. Grief could not cover the emotions flowing though his mind at this very moment. Anger, pity, horror, shock, the list went on and on. So immersed in his emotion and driving the motorcycle, the half giant never noticed the familiar patronus of one Albus Dumbledore's land on his shoulder.

"/Hagrid. Change of plans. Head to Hogwarts immediately. Password is Kit-Kat Bar./"

Hagrid started at hearing the Headmaster's voice, but took the message to heart immediately as he banked to the left on instinct. The motorcycle chuckled and finally roared through the cloud layer towards Scotland.

- - - - -

**Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office.**

Even with celebrations popping up everywhere like Marauders on goblin firewhiskey, Albus Dumbledore remained sharp and cold. Something had changed, and not for the better of the Greater Good. An old rival of his had scheduled a meeting with him, concerning the Potter boy. He was at his desk, sucking on a lemon drop, holding several sheafs of papers. One his left, was James and Lily Potter's wills. On the right was a written report from Auror Shacklebolt and Moody.

It was times like these he wished things would stop being so complicated and just fess up on just what the hell was going on. A glance at Fawke's usual perch showed him it was empty, presumably gone to see what had happened at Godric's Hollow. He pushed aside the report, having looked over it for the past seven minutes, only to turn over the second page to see just how much longer it went and gave it up as a bad job. The old wizened wizard sighed and eyed the unopened will apprehensively. Not that he didn't trust James Potter and the recently Lily Evans, but he knew there was going to be something he didn't like inside that sheaf of parchment. With the feeling that something was going to literally throw a monkey wrench into his clockwork plans, he picked up the folder and opened it. Apparently he was to take over the Potter estates and vault until Harry was of age. He was also heir to several rare artifacts that resided within that same vault. There was a list of people that had been given portions of the money they had, including the Dursleys and Severus Snape. The last few pages merely stated a trust fund to be held for Harry, as well as a number of people to foster the child in case they, in which they did, die.

The list was surprisingly short. While he himself thought they'd list the few Light families, like the Longbottoms or the Weasleys, or perhaps even a few of the teachers here at Hogwarts, he certainly did not expect this.

Guardianship is to be transferred from Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore of Hogwarts to the Magus of Merdiana Magic Academy.

Yes. That was totally unexpected. This threw quite a monkey-wrench into his well laid plans to shape the Potter boy.

Unexpected.

And totally predictable to the point he never even expected it.

The Potter family had sent their children to the Academy for magical theory classes for virtually seven centuries, let alone take classes there. Ancient families, especially those who were Light orientated sent their magically powerful offspring there to learn magics essential to greatness.

Dumbledore groaned and removed his half-moon glasses before putting his face into his hands.

"Albus?" Asked a familiar voice from behind the door to the moving staircase, one belonging to a rather fiercely Scottish professor.

With the speed that was unexpected of an old man nearing the age of a hundred and fifty, Dumbledore slapped his glasses back on, recomposed his face into his usual, though sober, twinkly-eyed facade, "Come in, Minerva."

He had justed popped another lemon drop into his mouth when four people stepped into his office.

First was the fiery Head of Gryfindor House, Minerva McGonagall, walking though while dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Next was Hagrid, with a familiar bundle in his arms. The third and last gave Dumbledore reason to pause in his machinations and decide to pop another sherbet lemon into his mouth.

While not as wildly eccentric looking as Dumbledore, Magus Merdiana contrasted with Dumbledore's blue and white robes with tan and red, his long flowing beard carefully cut and cleaned, and his right hand wrapped around a staff as tall he himself. Standing next to the Magus was his partner, a blond albino woman of moderate height in a sharply cut blue muggle business suit.

Their eyes met, a pair of, though no longer twinkling, blue eyes meeting a pair of neutral gray ones. Deciding against using a legilimency probe on the Magus, taking up the mantle of a polite host instead, "Welcome Magus, Miss McGuiness, Minerva, Hagrid, please sit. We have much to discuss. Lemon drop?"

Through her dried tears, McGonagall gave him a glare as if to say 'Right now is NOT the time!'. The look had it's effect as he desisted and turned to Hagrid. "I trust you found a faster means of travel?"

"Thas right headmaster," nodded the gamekeeper, "Young Sirius Black lent his motorcycle ter me. He argued for lil Potter here, but I told I had me orders."

Dumbledore nodded, thinking through this new morsel of information, "May I see him?"

Without waiting for an answer, he gently removed the child from Hagrid's overcoat, taking in the young babe's features with the air of a sad grandfather viewing the news of the deaths of his favorite family. McGonagall had stood up as well, craning her neck slightly to look, her eyes widened slightly at the scar on Harry's forehead. Dumbledore gently siphoned the smear of blood on the scar away with his wand to reveal a lightning shaped scar on the boy's forehead.

"Is it true then?" Gasped Minerva as she took Harry from Dumbledore's arms, "He really did it? This poor child really defeated You-Know-Who?"

The Magus's raise of an eyebrow at this statement most likely had nothing to do with how Harry Potter had defeated one of the most evil Dark Lords in Wizarding History, but more to do with the use of the name 'You-Know-Who'. That eyebrow was enough to goad Dumbledore into reprimanding his Transfiguration Professor, "Really now, Minerva, you should be more sensible about using the Dark Lord's name. All this nonsense of using 'You-Know-Who' is quite ridiculous. There isn't any reason not to simply say Voldemort."

If Dumbledore noticed the professor's flinch, he didn't show it, "But this meeting has gotten off course. I daresay you have your own copy of the Will?"

The Magus nodded, pulling out a sheaf of papers, "Have you told your people?"

"No, " said the Headmaster as he glanced at McGonagall and Hagrid, "I had planned to resolve this matter before informing-"

"Informing what exactly," inquired McGonagall, "I spent an entire day at Privet Drive waiting for you, Albus, so what were you planning to tell us?"

"He was planning to give Harry to the remaining relatives of Lily Evans," spoke the Magus quietly before Dumbledore could give an excuse, "Seeing as Harry is quite literally the last of the Potters...and that there are partially drawn wards at Number 4. Blood Wards."

Hagrid's face was a sea of confusion as he watched the three slightly apprehensively, holding Harry close to him as he back slowly away from the shocked witch and the two wizards; whose voices were slowly growing in volume.

"Surely you aren't planning to go along with that! You haven't seen them, Albus," cried Professor McGonagall, "Dumbledore-you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people less like us. And they've got this son-I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the streets, screaming for sweets. Harry Potter go and live there!"

"It is the best place for him," replied Dumbledore firmly, "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything properly when he's older. I've written them a letter."

The way he said the words were as though he most certainly believed every word of it. He truly believed that Privet Drive was the best place for Harry. Not if someone else had anything to say about it.

"I'm afraid," spoke up the Magus, "That that isn't possible. The Will /clearly/ states that young Potter cannot go to that household. Though your intentions are of good heart, have you even seen how the residents of Number 4 react to magic?"

"I'm sure they are rather fearful of it," admitted Dumbledore lightly, "But I'm sure they will get over it. I am positive they will come to love Harry like their own son."

"Be as it may, the Will clearly states that the child cannot go there."

"The Will is not magically binding," said Dumbledore fiercely, "And the Potters have made me Executor!"

Donet McGuiness stepped forward, speaking for the first time, "And you, as the /trusted/ Executor of James and Lily Potter, will go against their wishes? Magically binding or not, that is blatantly illegal. Do you wish to take this matter up to the Gob-"

She stopped as the Magus put a steadying hand on her shoulder, "Albus. A compromise."

"I am listening."

"Perhaps the child may indeed have to go there," agreed the Magus reluctantly, "but I suggest we all watch the first month of what these relatives will do. If things go as smoothly as you predict Albus, then by all means let Harry be raised by his aunt and uncle. If it does not..."

"I am quite sure that will not be necessary," said Dumbledore with a true smile, "But if it will assure you that my decision is for the best, I shall agree."

"Very well," nodded the Magus with a sigh, "You know the rules. However, if the child comes into harms way..."

"I stand as I have said. It will be a loving environment, they will understand," said Albus reassuringly.

- - - - -

As it turned out, the first month proved to be...illuminating. COme to think of it, it was actually the first six hours. True the Dursleys took young Harry Potter into their home, if grudgingly and very reluctantly. After they placed the baby, bundle, and letter upon the doorstep at the crack of dawn, after disalusioning themselves, the group was treated to Petunia Dursley's use of her healthy lungs as she went out to put the milk bottles out on the doorstep. They were additionally treated to the scene of the entire family having a shouting match while Dudley and Harry were wailing at the top of their lungs. After calming Dudley and tossing Harry into the cupboard under the stairs, they watched in mute silence as Vernon and Petunia muttered to each other, constantly casting the windows and doors with fearful glances while they read the letter Dumbledore had written.

"Why did they have do dump one of their...their...f-_freaks_ on our doorstep! Why?"

"Must be my dratted sister," screeched Petunia softly, "You remember her? At the dinner party my poor mum threw for her and her freakish boyfriend! Apparently they're dead. _Good riddance_!"

- - - - -

_"Those good fer nuthin'-!"_

_"Are still quite sure this was a good idea, Albus?"_

_"They threw him in a cupboard for crying out loud! A cupboard!"_

_"They will treat him fairly. They are his family after all. Besides, I have insurance."_

_"Insurance?"_

- - - - -

While her husband ranted about freaks and their un-normal ways, Petunia's eyes raced back and forth as she read the letter carefully, "Vernon..."

"-landing a baby freak on honest, hardworking, normal-"

"V-_Vernon_..."

"-citizens of the crown! Like the no good abnormal-"

"VERNON!"

The said husband jumped and turned back towards his wife, "What is it?"

"It says here my...sister...left us an_ inheritance_," whispered Petunia, her face suddenly devoid of color, "It says here, _right here_..._'To my estranged sister, her husband, and son, I leave a thousand galleons, and a summer house..'_"

"Galleons? Did you say a _house_?"

Petunia handed the letter to Vernon, who grabbed it and read through it quickly, his greedy little eyes widening at the prospect of owning a mansion of all things. He looked up thoughtfully, "A _beach_ house? What are Galleons?"

She swallowed and pulled out a brandy, pouring herself a healthy glass, "She left us a pile of gold."

"Houses? Gold? You never told me she was bloody rich!" Exclaimed Vernon excitedly, "That baby freak there is the key to getting richer beyond our dreams! If your freak of sister and her husband are dead, then that makes _us_ the only living relatives! That means we get all the loot! Hurraah!"

- - - - -

_"Oh dear."_

_"I was going to be nice about it, but I will say-"_

_"I told you so, Dumbledore! I told you so!"_

- - - - -

Yeah. 'Oh dear' doesn't even cover whats coming next. Looking forwards to a healthy amount of criticism and advice. For those who have no clue what Negima is, please head to this site: managa., where the entire translated series is archived. Note, you must be 16+ to read it as it contains nudity. Much will be explained, all in time.

- Ta


	2. Ruined Reputation and Floating Spoons

Magister Potter

Disclaimer: /I do not own Harry Potter (and in turn own JK Rowling), nor do I own Negima (and in turn Ken Akamatsu)./

- - - - -

The Dursleys went to bed happily that night, unknowing of the sensational news they had imparted within their kitchen. Dumbledore pleaded his case, but had found that all his allies, Minerva and Hagrid, had betrayed him and joined sides with the Magus and his Partner. They had adjourned back to Hogwarts, with a defeated Dumbledore in tow, leaving a ddetermined Fawkes behind to care for Harry. Giving him orders to file the necessary paperwork to have the Dursleys fined by the Ministry of Magic for 'Unfair Treatment of a Magical Child,' fined by the muggle department for 'Abuse of An Underaged Child,' the removal of their place within the Potter Will, and the removal of Harry James Potter from the household to be transferred to the custody of the Magus of Merdiana Magic Academy. The latter of the four was the hardest of all, but with some string pulling and general blackmailing, it could be done.

At Albus's expense of course.

All the while, with the two from the Academy, Miverva McGonagall, and, characteristically, Rubeus Hagrid glaring at him all the while, eating the occasional tea cookie, or taking a sip of tea.

Finally, after an hour. The paperwork was done. Albus gave another wretched sigh and pursed his old lips together as he signed the parchment containing the things needed to transfer young Harry to the Magistrate's guiding hand. He looked up, showing all his one hundred and fifty years of age in defeat and stonily handed the letters to the Magus. "I hope you will have a plan for young Harry?" He asked as the suddenly imposing Magus turned away from him.

"Plans? Why would I have plans for little Harry Potter," asked the Magus, suddenly crafty (from Dumbledore's point of view), "Do you mean you had a plan to shape the young boy?"

Minerva, who had been glaring at her employer constantly, renewed her assault with a freshly made pair as lightning fast and strong as Zeus's own strike. Dumbeldore had the grace to flinch and look away from his Transfiguration Professor and reply in a long-suffering voice, "He was to be the one to defeat Voldemort."

"Yes," agreed the Magus gravely, "He is."

Dumbledore flashed his eyes to the Magus, suddenly understanding, "They told you?"

"Yes," nodded the unbashful magister, "They did. The rest of it was guesswork, but I think I know what your plan is, Albus."

"Then you know why I had to place them with the Dursleys," said the headmaster urgently, "You know why he has to stay there!"

The Magus turned his head away, to eye the others in the room, each of them in the eyes, for a brief second.

"I know," sighed the Magus, "But I do not approve of your methods."

"It is for the greater good, Magus! He must stay," urged Dumbledore, his eyes pleading, "He musts stay there. Only then will he be-"

"Malleable? Mold-able? Shape-able like clay before you," muttered the Magus clearly, "Those muggles are fearful of magic. They hate it. I know that you believe them redeemable, but they see the boy as a means to become sate their greed. That is never a good sign. They are not an exception, like young Severus was, Albus."

"But the greater good," started Dumbledore.

"Sometimes, the greater good must wait," said the Magus tiredly, "Unlike you. I do wish a boy to grow in an unloved enviroment."

"Harry is Petunia's only living kin," shouted Dumbledore, suddenly losing his patience, "She must get over her past. She will learn to love Harry like her own son!"

"And the motivation for that is what, exactly?" Replied the Magus, still more softly, "Money? To sate their greed? They hate him, Albus. These people see us magic-users as freaks. The abnormals. How long before they blame him for every mishap? How long before they try to cure him of his 'abnormality'? His 'freakishness'? One day, perhaps they will see the boy fit to be part of the family, but how much before the boy is broken? Or defeated? How much until young Harry is desperate enough for the slightest bit of affection? Was that your plan? Albus? To have his only living relatives hate him until he finds you? A recipe for disaster! You live in such an idealistic world, Albus, but not all is just black, white, and the gray much in between! There are those who are redeemable, and there are those who are not. The details are not just in ideals, but in realism. Your plan for the boy, the beginning of his life as a child to that of a man mirrors that of his adversary. Do you wish for another to walk down that path, Albus? Do you wish for that boy to become as steeped in evil?

"And for one more thing, Albus Dumbledore! Get a _reality check_! Go down to the Hogs Head. Get a drink, and talk to your brother about it. For all your wisdom, your brother has more common sense!"

With that grand speech done, he strode out of the room, his smirking partner following him.

Albus sat down with a soft 'thump'. He looked up at his colleagues, his jaw slack.

Minerva shrugged and nodded to the direction of Hogsmeade.

Hargid stood and announced he was heading out for a drink.

Dumbledore hesitated, then grabbed his hat and cloak, preparing to get a stiff drink or two and pour out his heart to his brother and ask for some advice.

- - - - -

It was Sunday, and what a morning it was. As the Dursleys, they were waking up, blinking in the bright morning sun. Petunia was clambering down the stairs, heading straight for the kitchen to fry up some eggs and bacon. The excitement of riches had taken them a long time to sleep, but they had managed. Vernon was upstairs showering. Dudley was sleeping in his crib. As Petunia pulled out a botle of milk for Dudley, she was struck with a sense of forebodding. Tucking the feeling away, she picked the bottle up and put it in a pot of hot water to warm it up for her son. The bacon sizzled as she paused, feeling as though she had forgotten something. Like the sense of forbodding, she tucked it away in the corners of her mind as she prepared for breakfast.

Walking out to pick the bottles of milk the milkman had left she saw a car pull up the street, the expensive black kind used by government people. She smirked as she thought about the possible drama of one of the neighbors being told about about their not paying taxes or some such thing or the other. Her smirk faded as a middle-aged woman with long silver hair in a blue business suit got out of the car and began walking towards Number Four.

"Miss Petunia Dursley?"

The woman's voice was carefully neutral and rather bland, but it matched the sense of foreboding she had thrown into the far corners of her mind earlier.

She nodded with a slightly raspy, "Yes?"

"I am Donet McGuiness of the Department of Wills and Heirlooms," said the woman crisply, "I was given the task of clearing up several matters with your family concerning the Will of Lily and James Potter."

Petunia immediately ushered the woman in, as Vernon clambered down the stairs. "What going Pet? Ah, hello-"

"Vernon Dursley, ma'am," he said upon noticing Petnuia's mouthing of 'Government Official', "We were just about to start breakfast, would you like some tea?"

The three of them entered the kitchen, where Petunia hastily put a pot of tea on and brought a warm bottle to Dudley, who was contently crushing crackers into crumbs.

"Right then," said Donet as she nodded in thanks to a cup of earl grey Petunia put down in front of her, "Reports say that Lily and James Potter died last night at approximately at midnight. A serial killer murdered them, though left no trace of any weapon or poison that caused that death. Their child was brought to you last night by...a servant of some sort. I assume you have the child?"

Both adult Dursleys went completely white as they btoh remembered where the said baby was.

The government worker was nodding sympathetically, "I'm sorry Mrs Dursley, for your loss."

"Erm," coughed Vernon as he hastily swallowed the bit of bacon and hash he was chewing on, "Sorry, went down the wrong throat. Er, yes. The boy was brought here..."

"I would like to see the child," continued Donet, "Basic procedure, as the child is considered an heirloom."

Petnua exchanged glances with her husband as their brains fought furiously to give an explanation as to why Donet could not see the baby.

"Mrs and Mr Dursley?"

"Eh, well that's not...possible," spluttered Petunia as she sipped her tea with forced calm, "We brought the boy over to the Orphanage as soon as we found him. Thought he was a vagrant's kid..."

"I see," nodded Donet as she reached for the folder labeled as a 'Will', "So to the Will..."

They discussed the finer points of the Will, including them becoming fairly wealthy. As Vernon and Petunia Dursley signed the papers, they waited for Donet to legalize them.

A noise from the cupboard under the stairs, however, stayed her hand as the cries of a frightened baby permeated the house.

The pale husband and wife went pasty white and looked positively frightened now.

"I thought you didn't have the child," said Donet slowly.

They didn't say anything, as the cries grew louder and louder.

Dudley looked at his parents, then at Donet, before resuming to sucking on his bottle.

Donet stood up, walked crisply to the hall way, following the sounds of a crying babe. She reached the cupboard before Vernon Dursley threw himself in front of her, shielding her hand from the handle that would open the cupboard.

"What in the name of God are you doing?" Donet shouted, "There is a year old child in there!"

Vernon's face purpled darkly and made a gurgling sound, seemingly unable to reply to her. Petunia stood by the kitchen, her face white with fear and a mixture of horror and surprise as she watched Donet pick up Vernon by the collar of his blue pajamas and throw him bodily into the air towards her. She took a step back, shocked as her husband landed onto, and slid spectacularly across, the floor, winded and similarly pale. Behind them, Dudley seemed to have taken notice of what was going on and was giggling as he sucked the last of the milk from his baby bottle.

As Petunia struggled to help her bulky husband back up, Donet opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs and saw a wailing baby dressed in a fitting light green single-cloth pajama with a blanket partially wrapped around him. Beside him, Fawkes looked apologetically at her and made an inaudible croon to the baby, whose cries turned to whimpers and finally to silence. Donet stood up to look at the two Dursleys at the doors of the kitchen.

"You are the most _disgusting_ people I have ever met," snarled Donet, looking positively frightening as she marched past them to grab her files and papers. She shoved her way past them and picked up the now slumbering baby. "A _child_! In a _cupboard_ under the stairs! With all the dirty boots and shoes! You had better have a bloody explanation for all this!"

"You don't...understand! Hes a...well...um," blubbered Vernon, whose pasty white complexion had turned slightly red as he noticed Mr. Prentice through the now open door, who had stopped walking his dog to see what the commotion was all about.

"Then explain why the nephew of yours, whose parents died just_ last night_ is in a _cupboard_?" Screeched Donet, loudly enough to alert the neighbors around, but quiet enough as to not wake the boy in her arms, "They even left you a _house_, a pile of _money_ so this boy wouldn't be a burden on your back! Yet you throw this boy into a cupboard? What is the matter with you people?!"

The entire street was full of people now, many still holding newspapers, drinking coffee, a woman was opening whispering to another housewife.

With a huff, the 'government worker' left Number Four Privet Drive, into her car, and drove off.

Leaving the Dursley's reputation as a perfectly normal law abiding british family utterly torn into tatters.

- - - - -

Hogwarts, Hospital Wing

"Aww, you poor thing," tutted and cooed the maternal nurse Madam Promfrey as she did a quick check-up on the young child, before summoning a house-elf to bring some food to feed Harry. Muttering darkly under her breath about hateful muggles, she reluctantly handed the baby to Minerva with a muttered 'Fine! Your turn!' only to be given the comedic picture of one of the sternest professors in the school break down and start cooing at he delighted babe in her arms.

"Tibby brought food for young master," squeaked the tiny elf as it appeared with a snap, holding a tray with a bowl of warm sweetened porridge and applesauce. It placed the tray on the table and bowed, disappearing with the same soft snap. Minerva now had the chance to realize just how hard it was to feed a baby. She was cooing at Harry as she tried to levitate a spoon of porridge to his mouth when a snide voice of the new potions master entered the room.

"Reduced to using the choo-choo train method," sneered Severus Snape as he entered the infirmary with a number of jars in tow floating behind him, "I believe you required more of these blood-replenishing and skin-graft potions?"

"Yes, yes, thank you Severus," nodded the nurse with a bright smile, "Why don't you help Minerva? She seems to be having quite a bit of trouble feeding the boy, even after she insisted she be the one to do it."

Giving both witches his trademark sneer, Snape opened his mouth to say something, only to stop in mid-opening his mouth as his eyes met Harry's emerald one. His sallow face paling slightly, the potions master took a step back, his face going white when the boy said, "Sewrus?"

He promptly fled the infirmary, much to the confusion to the three he had left in the Hospital Wing.

"Now what was _that_ all about?" Asked McGonagall in confusion as she managed to get the spoon into the baby's mouth. Poppy shrugged and headed back into her office to place the potions in her store cupboard. As the Transfiguration Professor looked down at the Potter boy, the baby looking back up with curiosity. Minerva simply shook her head and made the spoon fly around before landing it safely into Harry's mouth, much to the boy's delight.

- - - - -

The Headmaster of Hogwarts sighed as he handed the adoption papers to the Magus, who signed them, finalizing the process. It was done. Until the seventeeth year of Harry James Potter, the day he comes of age, the Boy-Who-Lived was to be the mage's responsibility. Dumbledore placed his hands on the table and gave another sigh, much to the annoyance of the Magus and his partner, McGuiness.

"Oh do stop your sulking Albus," reprimanded the Magus sharply as he followed Dumbledore down the spiraling staircase and past the Gargoyle Guardian, "Everyone makes mistakes. It is only natural. Even I, as your counterpart equal, am not infallible."

"Did you have to endure a sevure talking to by your own younger brother?" Grumbled Dumbledore resentfully, "Then suffer a minor hangover on a day that has conviently the time all the hangover potions in stock were impostent?"

"Doesn't Professor Snape brew those along his regular batches to replace them as soon as they expire?" Donet asked.

The headmaster shook his head irratably, "They weren't ready. They needed half a day to mature."

Speak of the Devil! Lo and behold a stark white Snape hurried past them, completely missing them as he raced down the hall and around the corner with his robes billowing dramatically.

"I have really got to ask the man how he manages to get his robes to do that," chuckled Donet appreciatively, "Lets see to Harry. I believe the Academy will be glad to have another student."

As the two headed to the Hospital Wing to collect their newest charge, Albus Dumbledore glared blearily at the bright blue sky. Inwardly, he hoped for the best.

- - - - -

There! One more chapter done!

- Ta


	3. Caring For and Deliciously Bitter Words

Magister Potter

Disclaimer: /I do not own Harry Potter (and in turn own JK Rowling), nor do I own Negima (and in turn Ken Akamatsu)./

- - - - -

Magical folk in Wales were somewhat different than those in britain and the rest of Wizarding Europe. For one, many used staffs rather than wands. Another might be that they mingled with muggles who see them as a sort of modern mystics who stuck to an old pagan religion. The muggles here were predominantly christian, but welcomed these people into their community, and in return found that they had prospered. Another difference was that they [magical folk] had incorporated technology into their lives. The average wizard here had at least a laptop with him, enchanted and enhanced with mystical additions. Perhaps the most mind-boggling difference is that some muggles are taught how to use magic. This is not a known fact amongst the wizarding communities within Magical Europe. The first two facts of mingling with non-magic folk and using and/or learning their ways are enough to turn the head of most wizards and witches.

In other rather obscure parts of the world rarely bothered to be mentioned by the Magical World, existed an ancient branch of of wizards who wielded no great internal magic of their own, instead taking Mother Nature's own divine and subtle external forces and channeling them through themselves to match the warlocks of Europe, Africa, and Asia. The most prominent of these pagans were known as Magisters, powerful and respected magicians who are sworn to protect and help the world until the end of their lives. Their title of Magister combines the words Magic and Minister, to that of Minister of Magic; much to the the gnashing of teeth of the Ministry.

Various schools and academies dotted those areas, each headed by a Magus, a magician selected for their age, accomplishments, and wisdom over the course of their lives. Upon taking up the mantle of headmaster, they shed their original names and the school itself would bond with them. Each of these schools were the center of the small hidden cities in the obscure parts of the world, each town or city holding as many as two hundred thousand at the most. Many of those citizens were muggles, the minority the friendly magical folk who married and mingled with their neighbors.

If any haughty, ancient, arrogant Pureblood from mainland Europe was ever asked about them, they would give you an evil-eye and scowl. Only the wealthiest and most ancient pureblood lines knew of the Magi, pagans who held the might of magic around them. Their consortion with muggles aside, they too would send their children to their schools, but if it were not for the fact muggles _also_ attended the schools to learn and _use_ magic...Gods forbid if their pureblood child was contaminated!

Wale's Merdiana Magic Academy was built sometime within the late twelve-hundreds during a minor conflict between the primary magic users and the offshoots who now live on Earth. Approxmiately seven hundred live within the misty hills of Wales, many of them magic-wielding muggles and a sprinkling of mages for flavor. The school itself had an entire side of a hill to itself, with many towers and buildings overlooking the sea of clouds below. The school's artitechiure was slightly gothic and church-like, it even had a massive cathedral that served as a main hall. Dozens of gardens, spires, bridges and arches, dormatories and courtyards were scattered about throughout the complex. Over two hundred were students from ages six to ten, eleven to seventeen. Elderly men smoked pipes and spoke in undertone about philosophies and the weather. Couple strolled through the white and majestic halls, hand in hand. Chidlren of all sizes, shape, and taste swarmed with books and training wands in hand.

All greeted their Magus with a shout, a handshake, or a smile.

The Magus seemed to move through the endless hallways and cooridors, courtyards and bridges to his rooms within the Northern Central Towers. Setting down his sleeping charge onto a prepared crib, he clambered to a handsome dark oak desk and touched a gnarled old hand to a phone set, "Mr. Takahata. This is Merdiana, bring Stan with you, I have job for you two."

Quietly, he waited, his old gray eyes flicking to little baby Harry's sleeping form every now and then as he doodled on some rather unimportant paperwork.

Answering a knock with a call to come in, he settled down as smiled openly to the two friends who had entered.

An old Magister Magi with a small ancient gnarled redwood staff with a long bent nose in shorts and hawaiian vacation clothes grumbled under his breath as he ploped down into a chair, "I hope you have a good reason for calling me away from Hawaii." Stan was a small man, wrinkled with age and years of cynicalism. Under his bright pale blue eyes was a shock of a wild white moustahce and beard.

"Headmaster," greeted the young man in the suit, his face stressed, hair gelled back, and his chin with unshaved stubble, "You called?"

"Indeed I did Takamichi," nodding the Magus motioned for him to take a seat next to Stan. As soon as they were seated, the Magus finally spoke, "I'll get straight to the point. You've heard of the downfall of the wizard 'Lord Voldemort'?"

Stan stiffened and sent the Magus a calculating glare, "What of him? We don't usually deal with Wizarding Matters. Those wand waver's problems don't concern us."

"They would if we had an obligation to them," interjected Takamichi, "We've been helping some technophobic locals in Hawaii, so forgive us if we aren't up to date on the events. When and how did Voldemort get defeated?"

"The answer lies on a crib in the next room," replied the Magus tiredly. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the next room. Looking utterly perplexed and confused, the two summoned went inside and came back.

"Theres a baby inside the crib," growled Stan unimpressed, "What about the kid?"

"Thats the boy who defeated Voldemort," replied the Magus, who seemed to have expected this reaction from the short wizard, "Harry James Potter was the only survivor of the attack. His parents, our allies James and Lily Potter were killed by the Killing Curse."

"Sir," said Takamichi haltingly, "Surely you don't mean Voldemort casted the Avada Kedavra on that child and...?"

"Oh hold that load of bull-crockery!" roared the magister, "No way a kid would be able to deflect a Killing Curse and simultaneously survive it!"

"That is what happened," replied the Magus with conviction, "Voldemort attacked the Potters because of a Prophecy. The same Prophecy stated that young Harry here will be the one to defeat Voldemort. He has, and done it. Albus Dumbledore took it upon himself to put the boy within his relatives, only at my intervention did he follow the Will to the letter. The prophesy, however, has not been completed. It is possible that some form of Voldemort has survived the Killing Curse that had rebounded upon him."

"I thought the Fidelus Charm was impossible to break?" piped up Stan irritably, "Unless that Black character gave it up?"

"I doubt it," sighed Takamichi, "Black would never betray the Potters."

"So why are we here, Magus?" asked Stan still more irritated, "You have the boy, where do we come in?"

The Magus seemed to brace himself for something. After a moments silence he spoke, "I want you and Takamichi to take care of-"

"NO. I will not do any of the sort," shouted the magister waving his arms in the air, "No way! Never! Ever ever ever!!"

"It is just for a short period of time," pleaded the Magus calmly, "Just for a few months until I find a proper guardian!"

"The answer is no," growled Stan with a note of finality, "Give the task to Takamichi. The kid can handle the little monster soiling itself and screaming itself hoarse."

"You liked Negi well enough."

"What d'you say?"

Takamichi gave an unconvincing expression of innocence, complete with whistling. He smiled openly to the headmaster, "I'm sure I can handle this, sir. How hard could it possibly be?"

- - - - -

Three and a half weeks later he would be eating those words.

* * *

**Sorry for the short chapter fellow readers, but this is just a sign this fic isn't going to die just yet! More work shall be made in the following February. That is, if college life does not interfere!**


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